


a hundred sunsets

by sprinkleofsunshine



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz, Be More Chill - Ned Vizinni
Genre: Artist Jeremy Heere, Cancer, F/M, M/M, Major Illness, Michael Is Sick, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sad, based off the netflix film "then came you", i'm original i swear, jere is a hypochondriac
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2020-05-07 05:45:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19203106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sprinkleofsunshine/pseuds/sprinkleofsunshine
Summary: "i'm sorry, michael."michael blinked a little. be strong.he shrugged. "you win some, you lose some."***jeremy heere has his entire life in front of him, but he lives every day in fear. michael mell only has a few months to live, so he treats every day like it could be his last. who knew it would take filling out a bucket list to teach jeremy what it truly feels like to live?(based on the netflix original movie, "then came you")





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys!!
> 
> this fic is based off of the netflix film "then came you" so please please check out the movie if you like it!!
> 
> enjoy :)

_"i'm sorry, michael."_

_his mothers shared a defeated look. he didn't dare look either of them in the eye._

_"the tumor hasn't responded to the treatment..." the doctor continued, but michael wasn't listening. he stared blankly ahead. through his peripheral vision he could see the tears streaming down mom's face, and the fidgeting of his_ nanay' _s fingers against her thigh. he could practically hear the pained shatter of their hearts with every word. "at this point, it's about quality of time."_

_michael blinked a little._ be strong.

_he shrugged. "you win some, you lose some."_

 ***

to jeremy, nothing could ever be as satisfying as the sound of sharp graphite meeting fresh parchment for the first time. the soft scrape of pencil against paper as a new idea blossomed was music to his untrained ears. it was like clockwork at this point; letting the flowing movements of his pencil guide him through sleepless nights much like this one. nothing new.  
  
consciousness wavered in the back of his mind as he sketched, the idea of sleep toying with his mind with every movement. his eyes were sore behind the smudged reading glasses he begrudgingly wore. it was late- the steady tick of his clock served as a reminder- but it didn't take a glance at the clock for jeremy to know that. the soreness in his limbs was enough to clue him in that it was time for a break.  
  
"jeremy?"  
  
he groaned, pushing his glasses up on his forehead and rubbing his eyes. "yeah, dad?"  
  
his dad appeared in the doorway, but he didn't look away from his sketch. "you have work tomorrow, bud. you've gotta get some rest."  
  
"couldn't sleep."  
  
"jeremy, that's not-" mr. heere cut himself off, letting out another exasperated sigh. "we've talked about this."  
  
"i know, dad," jeremy said, pushing his journal away on the desk. he turned in his chair to face his father, instantly recognizing the familiar dissatisfaction on his face- the furrowed brow, the worried creases around his eyes, the chewed bottom lip.  
  
"if you knew, maybe you wouldn't still be drawing at five in the morning."  
  
"shit," jeremy gasped, dropping his pencil onto the desk. the pointed lead of his pencil crumbled under the pressure, leaving chalky grey debris on the table. he felt his teeth clamp down on his lip. "it's already five?"  
  
"watch your language."  
  
"shit, sor- i mean- i'm sorry."  
  
mr. heere stepped into the studio, plucking the glasses off of jeremy's forehead and pocketing them in his robe. "no more drawing tonight, okay? go to bed."  
  
"yes, sir," he agreed reluctantly, pulling himself to his feet.  
  
"thank you."  
  
jeremy nodded briefly before shutting off the lamp by his desk, walking to the door. he followed his dad back to the house, their paths diverging only when he reached his bedroom door.  
  
mr. heere gave a tired smile. "goodnight, son."  
  
"goodnight."  
  
jeremy closed the door behind him, collapsing against the sheets. he halfheartedly kicked his shoes and jeans off, tugging his paint-stained shirt over his head. he threw the clothes in a corner of the room to be rediscovered later, leaving his boxers on and not quite caring enough to put on pajamas.  
  
crawling under the duvet, he finally allowed sleep to take over. even if only for an hour, rest was a friend seldom welcomed by his brain. this was a small victory in his eyes.  
  
all too soon, jeremy was greeted by the flicker of his overhead light. fluorescent white flooded the room, and his eyes snapped open reflexively.  
  
"jesus, dad, a little warning next time?"  
  
"absolutely not." mr. heere flashed a sarcastic grin. "now get up, you've got work in twenty minutes."  
  
"actually, i'm gonna be a little late," jeremy mumbled, rubbing his eyes.  
  
"mind if i ask why?"  
  
the boy sat up, running a hand through his hair and grimacing at the flakes of sawdust his hand pulled back. "doctor."  
  
his father groaned, tapping his fist against the door frame. "not this again."  
  
"it's important!"  
  
"you're not sick, jeremy."  
  
"you don't know that."  
  
"i _do_ know that!"  
  
"i'm going," jeremy spat defiantly, grabbing a pair of jeans from the floor that didn't look as disheveled and paint-splattered as the rest. he tugged them on, pushing past his dad and walking out. he could hear the fading protests of his father behind him, but he pushed them to the back of his mind, making his way to his studio once more.

a gust of warm air greeted the boy as he opened the studio door. the familiar scent of fresh lumber and paint and coffee lingered in the air; the result of too many nights spent toiling away at his latest projects. worn leather journal sat untouched where it had been left only hours ago, a few pages fluttering back to reveal a completed chart of statistics. he sighed, sitting at the desk and flipping to a blank column of the chart. he grabbed a small centimeter ruler, holding it cautiously against the dark mole adorning his pale chest.

jeremy blinked at the writing on the page, noticing no differences between the columns. nothing was changing. despite himself, he scribbled the measurements into his journal, along with the symptoms he'd been keeping track of for the past twelve years. _better to be safe than sorry_ , he'd told himself before. _you never know._

snapping the journal shut, he stepped back and rubbed his eyes. the lack of sleep was starting to catch up to him. every bone in his body felt heavier, and he felt his mind starting to lag. he sighed.  
  
the tick of his clock brought him back to reality, bringing with it the realization that he had yet to put a shirt on. his eyes darted around the studio. thankfully, a faded eminem tee-shirt caught his eye, draped carelessly over the unfinished product of his latest project. he plucked it from its place, shaking it out a bit before tugging it over his head and grimacing at the way the stray wood chips scratched at his skin. he couldn't find the will to care, though, and shrugged it off.  
  
jeremy allowed his fingers to glide over the splintered surface of the wood, admiring it for a moment. blueprints came to life behind his eyes, ideas bubbling left and right. it was.... good. _just good._ it had to be better than _just good_. and it would be. he would make it perfect.  
  
an alarm chimed on his phone, shaking him from his trance. bright bold letters screamed at him from the screen.  
  
**STOP PROCRASTINATING- DOCTOR'S APPOINTMENT IN TEN**  
  
"shit," he groaned. he glanced back at his desk. his eyes flickered over the closed journal one last time, finally tucking it under his arm and stepping out of the studio.

fishing a pair of earbuds out from his pocket, he popped one in his ear and allowed soft piano melodies to flood his brain. he stared at his shoes, heading toward the nearest bus station. the distant memories of his father chastising him echoed in the back of his mind ( _you need to get your license, every other kid your age has a car, why can't you just drive, you know i've supported you through everything but come on, jeremy-)._ he winced at the thoughts, choosing instead to drown himself in his music as he turned the volume up until his temples ached. he didn't put much thought into where he was walking, muscle memory taking over as he let himself dissociate from the world. a small, dazed smile formed on his lips.

these moments of quiet were a saving grace for his sanity sometimes. at home, his family life was a chaotic blur. work was supposed to be his escape, but sharing a career with your father and cousins was quite the opposite. between family drama, cute coworkers, stress over his less-than-perfect art projects, and constant drives to urgent care, jeremy was anything but relaxed. the brief slumps of quiet, the faint blurs of in-between, those were the moments he cherished most. in those times, he muted the world with his music. it was far from perfect, but it was better than nothing.  
  
his muted fantasies were, of course, drawn to a halt all too soon. as he approached the bus stop, the device in his pocket buzzed feverishly, demanding his attention. jeremy sighed, glancing down at the screen. an onslaught of frantic messages from his cousins flashed over the screen.  
  
_**del:** WHERE ARE YOU?!?!_  
  
_**mitchell:** dude wtf_  
_**mitchell:** doctor again??_  
_**mitchell:** such a hypochondriac_  
  
_**em:** dad is pissed_  
_**em:** hurry up_  
_**em:** seriously where tf are you_  
_**em:** don't say i didn't warn you_  
_**em:** it's your funeral_  
  
the pounding in jeremy's head returned. he sighed, typing quickly. the screech of the braking vehicle in front of him resonated in the back of his mind, and he quickly sent the text. he didn't forget to set his phone on 'do not disturb', resuming his music before pocketing his phone again.  
  
_**jere:** sorry, doctors appt- i'll be there in 20_  
  
hopefully the rest of the day would go smoothly.  
  
spoiler alert- _it didn't._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick lil note: at some point in this chapter, michael's pronouns change. don't freak out- that was intentional! i did this because at this point in the story, jeremy doesn't know michael, and doesn't want to incorrectly assume his pronouns. once he's aware of the proper pronouns (he/him), he changes his mindset when referring to michael. you can read into that however you want to.
> 
> enjoy!!

_a support group._

_they sent me to a fucking_ support group?

a smattering of weak applause echoed in jeremy's ears as he looked around the circle. his heart sunk. men and women in wheelchairs, scarves tied around bare heads, shaking fingers clasped together, clinging on to hope. he saw old faces scattered with wrinkles, and young faces streaked with tears. all of them sick, all of them hurting, all of them sharing the same tired eyes.

he felt out of place, to say the least.

"thank you for sharing, ann," the group leader said, an inspired twinkle in his eye. jeremy's gaze fell over the woman who had just spoken, taking in every detail. the hunched, insecure posture, the fidgeting fingers in her lap, the worry lines tearing through her once-smooth skin. he found himself itching for his journal, eager to capture the raw weariness of this woman. he'd start by recreating her slouched figure, resting against the rough plastic chairs they were forced to use. he'd capture every crease by her fragile eyes, every bite mark on her pale lips. he'd shade the artificial lighting glinting off her barren scalp, then-

"alright, everybody," the leader piped up, shaking jeremy from his fantasies. he blinked a bit, looking away. the group leader, an athletic looking man with a well-groomed beard framing his thin face, was passing out small squares of paper. he found himself smiling- maybe he could draw after all.

a couple tired groans sounded from around the circle. the leader chuckled. "relax. it's not a test, i promise." this received a few weak laughs. he shrugged, continuing, "i want you all to make a list. write down all the things you want to do in life. anything- go crazy, let your imagination run wild."

"what if i want to rob a bank?" one man chimed from his corner.

jeremy found himself rolling his eyes. the group leader just laughed. "if that's what you wanna do, go ahead and write it down. i know some pretty good lawyers."

as he looked down at his paper, jeremy found himself at a loss for ideas. he fidgeted nervously, pen clicking obnoxiously in his ears. he hated the annoyance that came with his own anxious tics, but he couldn't find it in himself to stop.

the nervous adrenaline in his blood only spiked as he noticed the instructor drawing closer, peering across everyone's lists. shame took over, and he lowered his head, expecting the worst.  
  
thankfully, everyone's writing was brought to a halt by the loud crash that sounded through the room unexpectedly.  
  
jeremy's head shot up, frantically searching for the source of the noise. it didn't take long to find it- the door had been thrown open, the force of which had resulted in the horrific banging. the person that had caused this feat walked with the confidence of royalty, grabbing a plastic chair from outside of the circle and dragging it toward jeremy. they sat down, kicking one leg over the other and crossing their arms.  
  
the group instructor sighed. "nice of you to finally join us, michael."  
  
"well, you know me. i'll be late to my own funeral." the person- michael, jeremy assumed- sat slouched in their chair, comfortable. a lazy smirk painted their face.  
  
"you're more than welcome to stay. but if there's any repeat of last week's behavior, i'm going to have to ask you to leave."  
  
they did a mock salute, sitting straighter in their chair. "i'll be on my best behavior. promise."  
  
jeremy analyzed them. they had dark curls streaked with bold pink, held in place by a black beanie. a baggy red hoodie, scattered with various patches, hung loosely off one shoulder to expose the pale strap of a tank top underneath. their dark caramel skin was visible through the several slits and tears in their black jeans. they looked confident. suave. cooler than jeremy could ever be.  
  
he looked back up, startled upon realizing this person was staring back. they smiled coyly.  
  
"never seen you before," they commented, scooting their chair closer until their knee knocked awkwardly against jeremy's. he winced a little, but the person seemed unphased. "i'm michael."  
  
"uh, jeremy," he stuttered, internally cringing at his awkwardness.  
  
"alright, jeremy," michael's smile widened, "what're we doing here today, some shitty exercise about climbing mountains or somethin'?"  
  
"ye- uh, yeah, a-actually," he managed.  
  
michael reached into the pocket of their sweatshirt, withdrawing a wrinkled sheet of notebook paper. they unfolded it carefully, running it over their knee in a hopeless attempt to flatten it before brandishing the paper almost proudly. they leaned in, close enough for jeremy to feel their warm breath on his cheek. "wanna copy?"  
  
their voice was a gentle whisper. jeremy flinched a bit, staring at them. _what is happening?_  
  
"gotta admit," michael continued, "i'm a little promiscuous when it comes to support groups." they finished their tangent with a dramatic expression jeremy could only try to compare with that of a pained animal- scrunched up eyes, tongue poking out behind chapped lips, head lolling back dramatically. he blinked a little, trying to piece together the meaning of such a move.  
  
after a moment, michael snapped their fingers in front of jeremy's eyes. "what's your deal?"  
  
"sorry, just... your- your face."  
  
they laughed. "that was a wink, dumbass."  
  
he shrugged, staring back at his paper. an awkward tension hung in the air. jeremy found himself doodling miniature stars and planets in the corner of his otherwise blank paper.  
  
a beat of silence passed before michael cleared their throat, turning to face him once again. "...so?"  
  
"i... " jeremy sighed, resting his pen flat against the paper. "i don't know what to write."  
  
"who cares? write anything. you're dying, remember?"  
  
_no, i'm not._  
  
"just... don't be cliche," they suggested. "skip out on the whole 'swimming with dolphins' bullshit. and don't- _don't_ \- write disneyland. i've been to disneyland, it's shit. plus, there's like a million dying kids there, so no one treats you special. not even mickey fuckin' mouse. it's, like, passé to him, y'know?"

"um," jeremy replied, earning another laugh from his uninvited guest.

michael eyed him up and down carefully. they popped their lips. "you got a girlfriend?"

"oh. uh. no."

"boyfriend?"

"no."

"ah," they chuckled. "but there's someone you like, isn't there?"

jeremy flushed.

"there totally is!" they mock-gasped. "maybe you love them. maybe you think about them while you're-" michael cut off their sentence, leaning back in their chair. a low, needy whine resonated from their chest and they smirked, making a rather vulgar hand gesture.

his face turned a million shades of red. "jesus christ."

"you do!" they laughed triumphantly.

"stop!"

their smile only widened. "what's their name?"

"would you just leave me alone?" jeremy groaned. "please?"

"just tell me their name, dumbass."

"don't call me that!"

michael's smirk fell instantly. they looked away, almost ashamed. a heavy silence fell between the two, and jeremy felt his heart plummeting again.

"i'm... i'm sorry," michael mumbled, sinking back in their chair. they stared ahead, eyes blank, lip quivering. "it's just... i just get so angry sometimes, y'know? and- and i lash out, and... it's just not fair. it's _not_. i should have my whole life in front of me. it's not fair..."

guilt washed over jeremy in tidal waves. michael's demeanor had completely changed in a matter of seconds. they'd laughed and joked previously, but they were clearly hurting. he wished he could help them. he wished there was some way he could-

his thoughts were interrupted by a familiar set of fingers snapping in front of his eyes again. michael was smirking, just like before, as if nothing had happened.

"dude. i'm fucking with you."

jeremy frowned. _of course._

"gimme," they piped up, snatching the blank paper from his lap. they bit the cap off of their pen, balancing it between their lips like a cigarette.

he watched as they scribbled words fervently across the page. he noted that they wrote in all capital letters, messy and looping and smudged together. they smiled victoriously at the finished product, slapping it against jeremy's knee with a smile. 

"there we go. that's a good start."

jeremy looked down at the paper. there was his first dying wish, in bold pen ink:

**ASK WHATS-THEIR-NAME ON A DATE  
** **(DUMBASS)**

 he glanced back at michael. they simply smiled.

***

the session eventually drew to a close, and jeremy was more than ready to leave. he was drained- emotionally, from all the surrounding sorrow and grief, and mentally, from trying (and failing) to match michael's frantic disposition. 

 on his way to the door, the group leader ( _daniel_ , he'd learned from michael) held an arm out, pulling him aside.

"was he bothering you?"

jeremy blinked. "excuse me?"

"michael," daniel sighed. he seemed just as worn out as jeremy was feeling. "he can be a little... overwhelming, at times."

"at times?"

he smiled sympathetically. his grin reminded jeremy of one a doctor might use when speaking to a child. "he's a wild card. you really never know what to expect from him."

he nodded. that was understandable. michael's ability to shift his mood so quickly had perplexed him from the start. from bubbly to sarcastic to saddened, he was a ball of bursting energy that jeremy couldn't keep up with.

"he didn't bother me. not too much, at least."

the group leader seemed relieved. his smile widened a bit as he opened the door, allowing the other to slip past.

as he neared the exit, a faint slamming echoed from down the hall. the sound was followed by a hushed string of curses, followed by another slam. jeremy's curiosity got the best of him, and he found himself wandering toward the sound. 

he found himself approaching a vending machine, where a certain pink-haired punk was kicking at the base of it in frustration.

"damn machine, stealing my fucking money-" michael muttered to himself, kicking at it again. the frame rattled incessantly, but there was no effect.

he coughed, effectively capturing the other boy's attention.

"hey! jerry, right?"

"oh, um, it's actually jeremy-"

"right, same thing," he shrugged. "you look pretty strong. help a friend out, would you?"

jeremy bit back a laugh. an awkward mess of lanky limbs and a too-slim torso, he considered himself far from strong. but he didn't voice this, instead moving next to michael. hesitantly, he pressed the tip of his shoe against the glass of the vending machine, wincing at the faint thud it resulted in.

a soft laugh caught his attention. he looked back at michael, who was covering his mouth. "really? that's all you've got?"

"i-i mean..."

"dude. do it like you mean it."

he shrugged weakly, shoving his hands against the glass. the snack inside jostled a bit, and a burst of pride swelled in his chest.

"ooh, getting closer," michael commented with a smirk. "once more, with feeling this time."

jeremy bit his lip, frustrated. he turned his body to the side, ramming his shoulder into the machine. a quiet groan slipped from his lips as throbbing pain shot through his arm. 

the bag of chips that was previously trapped finally fell. michael jumped up and down triumphantly, slugging jeremy in the shoulder. he either didn't notice the other's apparent pain, or he didn't care enough to comment on it. "hell yeah! let's go, jeremy!"

jeremy flushed a bit, rubbing his sore shoulder. "ow."

"you want one?" michael shook the bag of chips in front of jeremy's face.

the latter declined politely, watching as his smile faded slowly. he shoveled a few chips in his mouth. an awkward beat of silence passed between them.

"sucks, huh?" michael said quietly after a moment. "the big 'c'. of course, no one's really a fan of it, but... the doctors have run out of stages for me. i'm on my own at this point. how 'bout you?"

guilt filled jeremy's head, and he blinked a bit. "i, um... i gotta go." he turned on his heel, hands shoved in his pockets, and shuffled away before michael could ask any more questions.

behind him, he could've sworn he heard michael calling after him, but he shrugged it off. it didn't matter anyway.

after all, it's not like he'd be seeing any more of michael after today.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally i was gonna give jeremy a brother (because in the movie the protagonist has one) but the idea was bothering me and i couldn't figure out how to write it and i just couldn't do it so
> 
> here's this instead :')

"there's nothing wrong with you."

jeremy bit his lip.

"i just don't know how else to say it," the doctor continued. "you're not sick."

"well, what about my symptoms?"

"you feel discomfort sometimes. pain, too. all normal things. they're not indicative of cancer."

he winced. "okay... what about the mole?"

the doctor chuckled quietly. "it's the same size as last week. and the week before. you're fine."

jeremy caught on to the man's calm disposition- arms folded in front of him, back resting against the wall, head held confidently. he was disgusted. how could this man not see the truth? "maybe we should run a few more tests, just to be sure-"

"there aren't any more tests." 

_...shit._

the man sighed, pulling up a chair to sit directly across from jeremy. he folded his hands in his lap, clearly struggling to maintain his composure. "there are no more tests. your health issues aren't physical, jeremy. i thought sending you to that support group the other day would give you a little more perspective."

jeremy shook his head, tucking his journal under his arm and standing. "i'm not a liar."

"i never said you were."

"i'm not making this up, okay?" he sighed, exasperated. "i'm not a hypochondriac. i swear."

no response. jeremy shook his head, walking out of the office.

***

walking into work, jeremy felt numb.

deep down, he knew he wasn't sick. a small part of him, buried deep in his subconscious mind, knew he was overreacting. but he couldn't shake the thought that the doctors were wrong.

"jeremy heere, i'm going to _murder_ you," a familiar voice grumbled behind him. he turned on his heel, meeting the furious gaze of his cousin.

"i didn't-"

"don't give me that shit," the other snapped, voice low.

he blinked, glancing over his cousin. emerson was all muscle and fury; if he hadn't grown up with him, jeremy might be terrified of him. he ran a hand through his styled chestnut waves of hair, toned biceps flexing as he moved. his glare was harsh, shooting lasers through jeremy's mind. it hurt. he wanted to gag. 

"i'm sorry," he muttered meekly, "i had an appointment."

emerson chuckled bitterly. "you always have an appointment."

 "i had to be sure-"

"give it a goddamn rest, would you?"

jeremy shrunk into himself. he wanted to disappear.

"you're not sick. you haven't ever been sick. get over yourself."

he sighed. "i know, em."

uncomfortable silence filled the gaps in their conversations.

a cough sounded from behind him, making both of the boys jump. jeremy's father stood, arms crossed, eyes mimicking the laser-glare he'd received from emerson. 

"boys. save the chit-chat for later."

"yes, sir," emerson nodded politely, stepping back. he headed in the opposite direction, but not before mouthing a soft _just wait_ toward his cousin.

he shuddered. _oh god._

"dad..."

mr. heere groaned softly. "you've gotta get over this, jere. i've tried to be patient with you. you have to work with us."

jeremy bit his cheek until he tasted blood. "i know, dad."

"just..." he sighed. "try a little harder. maybe find a hobby, get out of the house."

"i know."

"you can't keep living like this."

"i know."

a frown formed on mr. heere's lips. he opened his mouth as if to continue, then closed it- then again, like a fish gasping for air.

he shook his head, turning on his heel. "get to work," he mumbled to no one in particular, seeming to fade away.

jeremy blinked. despite the sore tugging at his heartstrings, he shrugged off his sadness quickly. he'd recognized the disappointment in his father's voice, but it hardly mattered.

he knew he was a letdown. no need to dwell on it.

his grip on his journal tightened. scanning the room quickly, he took a seat at a vacant bench and flipped his journal open to a familiar page. instinctively, his fingers traced over the carefully lined cheekbones of his pencil-sketched tormentor. 

 _lovely._ the word came to mind every time he saw her, and now was no exception. from the soft sweeps of darkness framing her face to the stoic smile she displayed almost constantly, she was the image of pure joy in jeremy's dull life.

he knew she would never like him. he'd accepted it ages ago. and he would never force her to feel any differently. but he couldn't help but sketch her every once in a while. her beauty was the kind that canvases longed to capture. the kind that painters wept over, knowing they could never truly replicate it. but he would be damned if that meant he didn't try.

he spent god-knows-how-long shading each inch of her face, willing it to perfection. the soft curves of her cheeks, the wrinkles in the corners of her eyes, the little lip bite she did when she laughed, the-

"hey."

adrenaline coursed through jeremy's blood. he snapped his journal closed, turning to face the source of the words.

_oh god._

"hi," he stuttered shyly.

christine grinned. jeremy's heart was engulfed in flames.

"that was you, right? earlier, with your cousin, and your dad?"

he nodded, movements stiff and awkward. how was it that just a few words could render him so impossibly unresponsive?

"i'm sorry about that," she said. "i know all about it. i used to babysit my neighbor's kids... four boys, can you believe it?"

the melodic lilt in her voice didn't go undetected. jeremy felt himself shattering.

he stared at the empty space on the bench next to him. christine's smile widened, and she took a step forward, delicately balancing herself on the edge of the bench.

"of course," she continued," this was back in ohio. before we moved to the city."

"...cool."

christine giggled. "you've clearly never been to ohio."

jeremy wanted to punch himself. cool? _cool?!_

"i, uh..." he cleared his throat. "i don't really travel much."

"really?"

he nodded. _this is good. good._ "i've never flown."

shock overtook her face. she stuttered a bit, giggling. "wh- how? you work at an airport."

he shrugged. 

"shame. shame on you. you've disgraced the entire aviation community."

jeremy bit down on his lip, looking at her. she had her entire face scrunched up, trying to hold in her laughter. somehow, the dam broke, and they both burst into a fit of giggles.

inside, he was exploding. _god, to hear that laugh again._

"so," christine piped up, once the spells of laughter had subsided. "what do you do in there?"

jeremy cocked his head in confusion. she pointed to the journal, still folded shut in his lap. he gasped a little, hugging it closer.

"just, uh... stuff."

christine grinned. "wow. stuff. how compelling."

"yeah."

"sounds like you've got a bestseller."

"definitely."

jeremy felt himself smiling. he couldn't remember the last time he'd genuinely smiled like this. he felt like he was in a bubble- comfortable, safe, happy. he liked this bubble. in the bubble, he was able to talk to christine without his tongue swelling up or his heart plummeting into cardiac arrest. the bubble was good.

then, the intercom: _"jeremy heere, to the information desk, please."_

and the bubble was shattered.

"that's, uh- that's me," he mumbled, tucking his journal under his arm again. "i should- i should go."

christine nodded, watching him stumble to his feet. "that's okay."

"yeah- sorry- yeah."

her smile revealed the soft pity behind her eyes. jeremy cursed himself for ever believing she actually cared.

"i'm christine," she added, holding a hand out.

he bit back the instinct to say _"i know."_

instead, he nodded awkwardly and made his way to the info desk. he didn't turn back, knowing she was watching him leave. knowing he'd only made things more awkward. knowing that if he looked back, he'd feel himself break all over again.

***

upon approaching the information desk, jeremy's hesitance to interact with other humans was growing steadily. after screwing things up with christine, the last thing he wanted was another awkward encounter. still, he put on a brave face and stepped up to the counter.

"hi, um... i'm jeremy? jeremy heere- they, uh, you called me up here-?"

_smooth, jeremy._

the lady behind the counter smiled sympathetically, pointing to a nearby bench. jeremy turned, only to be met with a familiar devilish grin.

_no fucking way._

"hiya, jeremy!"

he chuckled, paralyzed with disbelief. there, just a few feet away, sat the boy from the cancer support group.

michael beamed, turning his wheelchair and steering himself toward the other. his hair, unlike the shocking pink from other day, was a mess of streaky lavender curls tucked away into another dark beanie. a bag of iv fluid hung from a metal rod held tight in his grip. something golden shimmered from inside, but jeremy chose to ignore it.

"hi," jeremy laughed weakly, folding his arms across his chest. "what, uh- what are you doing here?"

michael waved an i.d. card above his head. "you dropped this. at the meeting. figured i'd be a good sport and return it for you."

jeremy rocked back on his heels. "did i?"

the other nodded, his gaze dropping to an identical card attached to jeremy's shirt. "oh. you have another one... oh well. i could afford to get out of the house once in a while."

"don't you have school-"

"is this yours?" michael piped up, hopping out of his wheelchair and dragging a hand over the dulled paint of the go-cart the airport employees often used. "wow..."

"yes, um-" jeremy found himself stuttering. "it's really not-"

"can i take it for a spin?"

"absolutely not."

"please? i'll be good. promise."

"nope."

he pouted. "but i'm dying, jeremy."

guilt struck his heart, and jeremy frowned. "it, uh- it's not insured for, uh, civilians-"

"civilians? really?"

he nodded. 

"i'm not gonna sue," michael pleaded. "c'mon, please? i promise. cross my heart and hope to-"

"stop it."

he grinned wickedly. jeremy hated that smile for all it was worth.

"so," michael practically sang, "what exactly do you do around here?"

jeremy shrugged, eyeing his company warily. he climbed into the cart, turning the key.

"are you like a newsie or somethin'? you kinda look like one. y'know, with the vest..? you see it? i do. or wait, no, you're one of the people that handles the luggage! d'you ever go through people's suitcases? i bet you've found some weird shit. what's the dirtiest thing you've found-"

"michael!"

another mischievous smile greeted a reluctant jeremy. he frowned in return. "i'm about to start a shift. i gotta go."

"oh, great!" michael pulled his iv equipment along with him, hopping into the cart. "i'll come with."

"no, you can't just-" jeremy started, freezing when he saw the iv bag. an orange sparkle piqued his interest. "is... is that a goldfish?"

michael giggled, pulling the bag off from its metal purchase. "oh, yeah! thanks for reminding me."

the bag dangled in front of jeremy's eyes. from inside, a goldfish danced through the water- god, he _really_ hoped that was water- gracefully.

"this," michael boasted, "is boris. you can call him whatever you want, though, because he's a fish and he only has a memory span of about two seconds. anyway, here he is! he's for you."

jeremy blinked. "excuse me?"

"he's yours." the other grinned brightly, setting the iv bag on jeremy's lap. 

"wha- why are you here, again?"

he laughed, reaching out to ruffle jeremy's hair. "silly boy. you're just as bad as boris! i came to bring you your id badge, remember?"

"yes, which i've successfully received, thank you very much, now _goodbye_ -"

"i'm not leaving, silly."

jeremy frowned. "you... could you please go?"

that familiar mischievous smirk formed on michael's lips. he crossed his legs. "i mean, i could..."

" _michael._ "

"look, dude, i'm sorry," he shrugged, "but if you wanna beat this shit, you've gotta grow a pair-"

jeremy blinked. _beat...._

_oh. the cancer thing._

_...that i don't have._

"-you don't have testicular cancer, do you? because if you do, holy shit, i'm sorry. because that would make me sound like a dick. no pun intended. sorry."

he coughed. "no. i do not."

"oh, thank god!"

jeremy stared at his company. "you... are incredibly strange."

"you'll have to get used to that, honey." michael hopped down from the cart, grabbing the now-empty metal rod where his iv bag once hung. that smile still lingered; his eyes were practically dancing with an untapped sense of adventure. "alright. we start tomorrow."

"...start what?"

his smile only widened. "my to-die list."


	4. important update (please read!!)

hello, dear readers!!

i'm sorry this isn't an actual chapter, but i feel the need to explain my absence for a moment.

as we all know, 2020 has just started. however, as exciting as that can be for most people, it can also be a really hard time for others. i happen to have quite a bit of trauma surrounding this time of year, and stressful situations like traumaversaries can make it hard to be as functional and productive as i normally would be. it can be really debilitating. writing is a great way to express some of those feelings, but i've been so mentally blocked lately, i haven't been able to make anything worth sharing.

overall, i'm okay. it's just hard to cope with specific trauma-surrounded events (particularly this holiday), so i've decided it's in my best interest to take time for myself and focus on recovery. it's not an easy thing for me to do. i'm a generally hard worker and i like being able to write productively and efficiently. these things happen though, and it would be wrong for me to push myself to an unhealthy limit by adding more weight on my shoulders. 

regardless of this, i still want to write. i have hundreds of ideas, and i was even planning on releasing a new oneshot to welcome 2020. i still plan on doing so, but it may take some time. in this time, your patience and support is all i ask. i have so much i want to create, and i will in due time. but, for the time being, i need to get in a healthy state of mind before i can truly create something i'm proud of.

so, **tl;dr- i'm still alive, and i promise i'm not abandoning any work. i will try my best to work on this story, as well as potential others, when i'm in the right state.**

again, all i ask for is your patience. i wish everyone a beautiful, safe start to the year. lots of love to you all.

~ sprinkle

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!! ♡


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